Indians of the Mesa Verde

by Don Watson

In two weeks the men begin to return and at the end of the month all are accounted for except a small party which went to the southeast for turquoise and obsidian. They are long overdue and at last the people give them up for lost. It merely means that they encountered a band of nomadic, warlike Indians and perished. Groups of savage hunters sometimes slip into the Pueblo country to prey upon the peaceful farmers and the pressure from these nomadic Indians is being felt more and more. There was a time, many generations ago, when the Mesa Verde people had no outside enemies and their villages were scattered over a vast area. At that time they lived in open pueblos out on the mesa tops and in all the broad valleys. Then nomadic hunting Indians began to drift into the Pueblo country. They raided the small villages, murdered the men, enslaved the women and children and destroyed the crops. In the border regions which were sparsely populated, village after village was destroyed by the raiders. As the pressure increased, the farming people deserted the valleys and the open mesa tops and for the last few generations they have lived in the cliff dwellings which they built in the caves of the Mesa Verde.

Cliff Palace has not yet been molested. It is in the midst of a large group of cliff dwellings and the population is so great the enemy people have not dared attack. But the men who have returned from their trading journeys have brought news of increasing enemy trouble in the surrounding regions and the people know the threat is coming closer.

This spring only the one party of traders was lost to the enemy. All the others have returned to the safety of their cave home and they tell of their journeys in great detail. They were received hospitably in Pueblo villages along the way and have brought home a good supply of the things the Mesa Verde does not provide; salt, turquoise, cotton and sea shells. They have also brought news from all the country to the south. Fires burn far into the night as the people listen to the tales from the outer world. The young men who made their first trip have become heroes and they make the most of the opportunity as they tell magnificent tales of the things they have done and seen. Most of them did well with their trading but a few gambled and lost, and have returned with nothing but their loincloths. That is not serious, however, and the great cave rings with laughter as the people torment the unfortunate gamblers.

The young man who needed cotton for his marriage blanket sets up a loom in his kiva and begins to weave. Older men in the clan help him with the spinning and the blanket grows steadily. The yarn is spun by hand until it is fine and even and the young weaver listens attentively to the advice of the older men as his weaving proceeds. This blanket is an expression of his feelings for the young lady and he makes it as nearly perfect as possible.

The bride-to-be is also busy for she and her relatives on her mother’s side must provide a house. The spot is chosen, either beside her mother’s house or on top of it and the walls begin to rise. The house will be the property of the girl and her wishes are respected but the real supervisor of operations is her mother. She is experienced in such matters and her tongue is sharp as she directs the many workers. All of the girl’s clan relatives help. The men do the heavy work of cutting roof poles and shaping the stones while the mortar work and plastering is the work of the women.

Stones for the house are not quarried. The men simply go out along the canyon slopes and pick up small rocks which are of the proper size, though of irregular shapes. As soon as a large pile is accumulated they begin to dress the stones. A few, well-directed blows from a heavy maul or hammer give a stone the general shape desired, then a thorough dressing with small pecking and rubbing stones gives it the final finish. The sandstone is soft and the men are skillful, so in spite of the simple tools the building stones are turned out surprisingly fast.

Mortar for the walls is prepared by the women. Gray clay is generally used and it needs only the addition of water to make a heavy, sticky mortar. The women do much of the work but they often call on the men for help. As the walls rise, prayer sticks are buried in the corners. These small, carved sticks are offerings to the Gods and assure the stability of the house. When the walls are as high as the builders’ heads, three or four heavy poles are laid across as main roof supports. Over these is spread a thatch of brush and withes and the roof is finished off with a layer of adobe three or four inches thick.

It takes only a few days to build the house if the builders are in a hurry but they seldom are. The house can be completed long before the boy’s weaving is finished, so the work is done leisurely. House building is a pleasant task. All of the close relatives in the girl’s clan work together and the hours are filled with laughter and practical jokes. There is much feasting and, of course, a happy celebration when the house is finished.

As the little structure rises there is a deep satisfaction in the hearts of the builders. They are helping a young couple reach their ultimate goal. To the home-loving people this goal is marriage, a home and children. Their lives point toward that end.

This tiny room will be home to the young couple for the rest of their lives. It is small, not over six by eight feet in size and the roof is so low that the husband will have to duck his head to miss the beams. The one door is very small, measuring only sixteen inches in width and twenty-four inches in height. The door sill is almost three feet above the floor and it will be awkward for the short, chubby little bride who is scarcely five feet tall. She will have difficulty straddling through the high opening, and will not dare grow too fat in later years. Older women often get so heavy that they can hardly squeeze through the tiny doors. But it has always been the custom to make the doors small and time-honored custom means more than the comfort of fat women.